you have been the one for me
by lord-is-it-mine
Summary: No matter how much Jon aches to give Robb what he wants; he cannot stay. ((the night before Jon ships out to the wall. sibling incest, pwp, angst, open ending?))


Jon sits outside the doors to the great hall, knees up to his chest, arms crossed and head leant back against the rough stone wall that separates him from the privilege of Starks. He taps his foot in time with the music echoing from the other side- usually the line between Stark and Snow is merely figurative. It was drawn by Ned Stark the day Jon was conceived, and it has since been guarded by the mother of Jon's half-siblings.

Foolishly, Jon presses an ear to the cold bricks, wondering if he might be able to hear the sound of the dance that accompanies the music. He closes his eyes and imagines Robb tangled up in the arms of some girl or another, perhaps a little drunk and having the time of his life. The girl could be pretty- one Robb could love, could bed, could marry if he so chose- a girl that could give him children and keep him warm when winter finally came- she could have a whole life with him. She wouldn't be someone who would, in a matter of hours, be setting off on a journey to forsake all human contact for all of time in service of his King and country.

Jon tries to shake himself free of his thoughts, opening his eyes and forcing himself to his feet- it's only then that he notices that someone is standing next to him. He turns to face Robb, who is (to Jon's vast relief) womanless. Robb tilts his head inquisitively, for a moment resembling his direwolf pup.

"Is it so dull out here that you fell asleep?" He asks. Jon scoffs.

"Is it so dull in there that you've come out here?" He retorts. "I'm sure there are about a dozen or so girls in there who've had too much to drink. Surely it mustn't be _that_ dull."

"Drunk or not, they all seem taken with the King- or the Kingslayer. It's true, what they say about him and women- it's uncanny how they all swarm around him like a flock of starved chickens. It would seem I'm out of luck."

"The great Robb Stark, heir of Winterfell and the Kingdoms of the North, out of luck- so he comes to me." Jon's voice carries a little more resentment than he had intended it to. Less resentment for Robb himself, more for the circumstances. He's never let it show. He has broken now, at the end of it all.

"You know that's not why I come to you." Robb whispers. It's only then that Jon realises how close they are to each other- he's suddenly very aware of Robb's warm breath reaching through the cool night air- Robb's heat through the layers of leather they both wear- Robb's ever steady hands holding fast to the sides of Jon's doublet.

The heavy wooden door of the hall swings slowly open, and noise from within pollutes the silence they've begun to cultivate. Several people, stumbling drunk, pour out into the courtyard, whooping and clinging to one another as they pass the two boys- men, Ned would say. None of them notice or care how close Robb stands to Jon, but nevertheless he steps back, out of shame or caution Jon doesn't know. He expects shame and doesn't hope for caution.

When the din of the raucous crowd fades, and the doors once again close, Robb steps forward, this time pulling Jon's face to meet his in a familiar and desperate kiss. Jon's eyes slip shut and he is surprised by the light that still shines behind his eyelids- never has Robb kissed him in such a bright and open place.

"Not here-" Jon breathes- "anywhere else."

"Always so eager to escape." It's Robb's turn to sound resentful. "I suppose I shouldn't even bother asking if you're going North."

"It's been decided."

"It's what you wanted." Neither of them are as convinced of that as they should be. "_Gods_, Jon- I wish you wouldn't."

"Father's going South tomorrow-" Jon starts, but Robb kisses him again, effectively cutting him off.

"So stay here. With Rickon, with Bran." Robb's hands drop to Jon's shoulders. "With me."

"With father gone, there'll be nothing stopping your mother from having me thrown out on my arse the first chance she gets."

"Yes, but I'll be King in the North- I can do as I please." Robb reminds him.

Jon forgets sometimes, how stubborn Robb can be when he wants something- especially from him. Usually it's humorous, and it ends with Robb getting his way. But not this time, no matter how much Jon aches to give him what he wants; he cannot stay.

"This is where our paths separate." He sighs into Robb's mouth. "Tomorrow you'll be King in the North, and I'll be gone."

"We only have tonight, then." Robb murmurs. Jon closes his eyes, refusing to look at the pained expression he knows is o Robb's face.

"We only have tonight." Jon nods, taking Robb's hand and leading him out of the torchlight, towards the keep. He wished it was a warmer night- they might have snuck past the gates and made off into the trees- the second most common place they spend their nights together. The keep sits empty- no doors are guarded, no corridors lit with voices and footfalls- the castle is empty, save for the roaring feast downstairs. All the way up the stairs, the only thing he hears is the rushing of breath and the quick taps of boots on stone.

Before Jon even opens the door to Robb's room, Robb is there, crowding him up against it, kissing him deeper than he ever has; this being one of their last, Jon thinks back to their first, hesitant and hidden away in the stables, unaware of how attached they would become. Jon remembers Robb's hands as they were then- uncertain and small, nothing like they are now- deft and experienced in the way they grab at Jon's hair, pulling it roughly just how he likes, getting a low groan from Jon and a smile of approval from Robb that he can feel in their kiss.

Even Robb has to take a breath some time, and when he pulls back to do so, Jon takes advantage of it, reversing their positions and pressing his body against Robb's from hip to chest- he feels Robb's hardness answering his own- and part of him knows he should stop, should open the door, lay Robb out on his bed and take him apart slowly, till he trembles and he begs, make sure he savours every moment of it so much that he will never forget it. Part of him longs to run away, just the two of them, to wander and make their own way in the world, their titles of heir and bastard long forgotten. Part of him wants nothing more than to stay right here and rut up against Robb until pleasure overtakes him.

In the end, this is the part that takes over his mind and body. He pulls Robb's head back and bites and the tender skin of his throat, letting his hips fall into a sporadic rhythm of thrusts. Robb soon meets him beat for beat, hands wandering to Jon's arse and holding him steady. He groans when Jon sucks harder at his neck, intending to leave as dark a mark as he can; a mark that will last long after he is gone- and a memory that will last even longer.

He moves up to kiss Robb a moment later, hurried and wet, unable to focus with the blinding heat rapidly building inside him. Robb puts a hand between them and strokes Jon's cock trough the heavy cloth of his trousers; Jon gasps harshly, moving his hips roughly, earnestly chasing release. He wants to reach out, to return the touch, but all he can do is brace his hands against the door on either side of Robb's body, pushing his thigh between Robb's legs. Robb's hand stills for a moment and he moans, hissing Jon's name as his hips take up a stuttering rhythm. He comes a moment later- Jon feels Robb's whole body seize and then go slack against him, breath heavy on Jon's neck. Jon follows him over the edge soon after- his hands pound against the wall and he buries his face in Robb's shoulder, crying out at the intense waves of heat that wash over him. For an instant, Jon's mind goes blank- everything that has been burdening him is gone- a weight is lifted- he breaks through the surface of a deep water, gasping for air and anchored to Robb.

Before he can regain any of his coherent and morose thoughts, he takes Robb's hand and guides them both inside Robb's room- his limbs feel like wisps, his eyes already heavy. He bolts the door shut and pushes Robb to the bed, taking layers off as he goes- a bit backward, he knows, but he wants nothing more than to feel Robb's skin the next time he puts his arms around him. Robb goes along, unlacing boots and tunics until they're both divest of everything- Jon steps back and stares for a moment, committing the lines and shadows of Robb's body to memory- memory is all he will have come morning. A cold draft blows through the room and Robb visibly shivers; Jon pulls back the furs on the bed and pulls Robb under them, cocooning the two of them in each other's warmth and scent and unwillingness to let go.

"You're still going to The Wall." Robb whispers, head pillowed on Jon's chest, eyelashes fluttering on his skin as he falls into a state somewhere between awake and unconscious. "It's what you want, isn't it?" He's repeating himself, he knows- he knows he's mad to hope for Jon to give him a different answer.

"_You're_ what I want." Jon breathes. He feels torn, his heart rent from his chest, as though something vicious has pulled him apart.

"_Stay_." Robb pleads, and kisses him again, urgent and unrelenting in the way that he wraps himself around Jon- Robb is being pulled apart too, Jon realises.

"I will try." He answers. He tells himself he's only promising the night, that in the morning he will leave- slip out of Robb's bed before Robb wakes. He tells himself he won't meet Robb's eyes before he rides away, through the gates and never to return. _I'm leaving_, he tells himself.

But he looks once more at Robb, and he doesn't know if he can.


End file.
